


One Fine Day

by veronamay



Category: Oliver Twist - All Media Types
Genre: Inspired by a Movie, Introspection, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-22
Updated: 2002-02-22
Packaged: 2017-11-27 06:24:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronamay/pseuds/veronamay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten years on, will the Artful Dodger be the same?</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Fine Day

**Author's Note:**

> This story uses canon from the 1998 Disney movie, not Dickens' novel. Please allow for discrepancies.

_"One fine day, when you goes reaching for your pocketbook and it's missing, you'll know the Artful Dodger ain't far away."_  
~ Oliver Twist, © Disney 1998

One day I reached into my pocket in the midst of a London crush and found it empty. In that moment I thought of Dodger, and could not help but smile. Although I knew him to be the most unsuitable creature to call a friend, I could find no ill will towards him in my heart; I felt only warmth and a sweet nostalgia at the thought of him. In any case, my brief career as a pickpocket had taught me well. I never kept anything of true value within easy reach, preferring to trust my own caution rather than to the whim of Fortune for safety.

And yet ...

I found I had a deeply buried wish to meet up with Dodger again. My schooling was finished and I had my own way to make in the world, but it would be a fine way to mark the end of my childhood if I could by chance cross paths with the first real friend I'd ever had. I had some vague notion of trying to turn him from a life of crime--but mainly I just wanted to _see_ him, to make sure he was well. There were too few people in the world who cared about Jack Dawkins.

All of this ran quickly through my mind as I stopped in mid-step and discovered my lightened pocket. A quick look about me revealed a dozen small urchins deftly plying their trade in the crowd, hardly causing a ripple. Many people were gathered on the street to watch the procession for the opening of Parliament and the pickpockets were making a fortune. I smiled again, albeit reluctantly this time, as I recalled Fagin's explanation regarding "redistribution of wealth". Here was another of my childhood lessons still haunting me, for I still shared Fagin's dislike of the division between the classes, though not his means of evening the scales. I thought that I would not begrudge my pocketbook to Dodger, thus proving my morality to be tenuous at best. Once acknowledged, the notion could not be dismissed, nor could I block his image from my mind again.

I retained only fleeting images of the others: Nancy's soft hair and wistful smile; Fagin's shrewd gaze and leery grin; Bill Sykes's hard voice and rough hands ... but Dodger! He was as clear-drawn in my mind as though he stood before me. I saw again the jaunty angle of his hat as it sat atop his head, and the cheerful flash of his grin over one shoulder as he brushed against a mark. He had such clever, nimble fingers--oh, how I had once longed to be like him!

I remembered seeing him once, at his ease by the fire. He'd been pensive, staring at nothing, and the warm flicker of firelight had turned his skin to pale gold.

I was jolted rudely out of my reverie by the feel of searching fingers at my waist and jerked around, startling the small boy who stood there with hand outstretched. He gasped when I took a firm grip on his arm. 

"Hush, lad," I commanded, drawing him quickly out of the mass of people. He came after me unwillingly, most likely fearing I would call for the police. I had no such motive; indeed, I would be hard-pressed to resort to that course of action unless I was deprived of something truly precious to me.

"Tell me, lad," I said as gently as I could, when we were away from the crowd, "can you tell me anything about a man named Jack Dawkins?"

The ragamuffin shook his head, looking less frightened now that I showed no signs of calling the constabulary. "No, sir," he said easily enough. "I don't know nobody by that name."

I hadn't thought to get an affirmative answer and so was not daunted. Instead, I crouched down to the boy's level and drew him a little further out of view, lowering my voice as I did so. "What about ... the Artful Dodger?" I asked quietly, searching his young face. "Do you perhaps know him?"

The reaction was astonishing. The boy began to squirm and twist in my grip, looking panicked. "No, sir, I can't!" he cried. "I ain't peaching on Dodger! You let me go!" He redoubled his efforts, trying desperately to escape.

"Settle down, boy!" I ordered sharply, rapping him on the head with my knuckles. "I'm not asking you to peach on anyone, let alone Dodger. I merely wanted..." And here I faltered, for I had no clear idea of what I hoped to accomplish. Even if I could find Dodger, what on earth would I say to him? Ten years had passed since we had seen one another and I doubted very much that he would remember young Oliver Twist at all. I was well aware that I was in the grip of a childish fancy but I hardly expected that he would share my feelings in the matter. I flushed to think what a fool I was being--why, I was no better than a simpering debutante on the lookout for a husband!

The boy was still trying to escape me. I returned my attention to his thin face and recognised something in it: a reflection, an echo of the very same loyalty and warmth I still felt for Dodger, which the years had not erased. I could only smile at that, for it meant he was at least alive, and loved by some.

I spoke again, more warmly this time. "Don't worry, boy," I told him. "I have no wish to harm your master. I only wanted to know if he is well, and happy. Can you at least tell me that?"

The boy hesitated, eyeing me suspiciously. I found no fault in him; I would have done the same in his place. "'E's all right," he said at last, grudgingly. "Who wants to know?"

It was my turn to pause, feeling oddly hesitant. But after all--why not? I smiled again. 

"Twist is my name, or once was," I replied. "When next you see your master, please tell him that Oliver Twist sends his warmest regards."

I straightened up and let the boy go, but he lingered a moment, looking up at me with a thoughtful frown on his face. Then suddenly it cleared and he said with awe, 

"You're him!" He peered excitedly at me again through a dusty mop of hair. "You're that toff what 'elped old Fagin, ain't you?" A gap-toothed smile broke over his face. "Dodger talks about you all the time--we're all to be like you, 'e says, and keep an eye out for our friends what 'elps us." He was fairly dancing around by now, his suspicions forgotten. "Dodger'll be right pleased to see you, 'e will!" And he took my arm and began to pull me along the street. "This way, sir!"

I fell back a step, feeling caught. Surely if I were to visit him Dodger would think it at least odd, and at most suspicious? I could hardly claim to have business with him after all, and there would be no other reason for me to seek him out. If indeed that were reason enough--more than years separated us now. Far from being pleased to see me, he might very well see me as a threat to his livelihood. Should that happen I might even fear for my life. I was unwilling to have my still-cherished memories dispelled by such circumstance, nor face the harsh reality of a life of crime. But at the last my curiosity won out over my fears and I allowed the urchin to tow me after him, plunging into the back alleys towards "the master's lodgings".

"Dodger!" the boy cried as we apparently drew near. "Dodger, come see! Look what I've found for you!" He flashed a grin at me and pulled me inside a dingy-looking terrace, halting just inside the front door. "Dodger!"

"What?" A voice bellowed from the upstairs portion of the house. "Who's that come to bother me in the middle of a working day, when all my lads should be out and about?" A thumping of booted feet sounded in the air as someone made their way downstairs. A moment later Dodger appeared on the landing.

I was struck dumb at the sight of him. My memories were not dispelled; rather, they paled in the face of reality ten years on, for truly I had never seen anything more pleasing to my eyes. My lost pocketbook was forgotten along with all caution, and for the longest moment I could only stare.

"Dodger!" I blurted finally, and then was still; but he came down the rest of the way and stood in front of me, a slight frown on his face.

"Who's this then, Master James?" he asked the boy, "and what're you doing bringing strangers 'ere to my own castle?"

James hopped from one foot to the other in his excitement. "I picked his pocket, sir!" he said, eyes shining. "But he turned and caught me, an' asked me did I knows you, and was you well. Then he said--" Here he paused to take a breath, and I took my chance to speak.

"I said," I explained haltingly, "that next time he saw you, he should say I sent my regards."

Dodger looked narrowly at me, seeking a trick. 

"You don't say," he said darkly. "And who might you be, to be sayin' such things as if we was old pals?"

James let out a giggle. "It's Twist, sir!" he cried, and pushed me forward a step. "It's your own Oliver Twist, what you're always telling about!" He grinned toothily up at us.

Dodger's eyes went very wide as he looked at me, and I smiled wryly and pulled a crisp green apple out of my coat pocket. 

"I still like apples," I said. "But now I usually pay for them." 

That broke the spell, and Dodger laughed.

"Oliver!" he said delightedly, and thumped my shoulder. "Let's have a look at you." He flipped the lapels of my coat and smiled into my eyes. "You grew up to be a right gentleman like I said, didn't you? Well, not to worry. It 'appens to the best of us." His eyes lingered a moment on my own before he broke away. "Go on now, James my lad!" he said briskly. "The day's not over yet, and me and Oliver's got some catching up to do. Go on!"

James ran off and Dodger smiled after him. 

"He'll be leading this gang when me time comes to retire," he said as if to himself, then he shook his head and turned back to me. "Oliver Twist!" he said again. "It's good to see you, lad, and lookin' so proper!"

I could scarcely breathe for the happiness in my throat. "I'm so glad to see you, Dodger!" I replied fervently. He looked at me again from top to toe, and drew me over to sit by the fire, a mysterious smile on his face.

"Come sit a while," he said, "and we'll talk till we're all caught up with the other. Are you hungry?"

A memory came to me, and I smiled. 

"If you have a scrap of bread, sir," I said mock-timidly, and he burst into laughter.

"Ah, that was a fine day when we met," he said in fond reminiscence. "Sit then, and I'll get us some food."

He returned with bread and cheese and wine, and I sat and listened to him talk. In time I spoke of my own doings in he past ten years, though I was much more eager to hear the tales he told. 

"So you matriculated to that great institution of study and higher learning, Dodger?" I asked eventually, feeling the smile on my face. "And what dark secrets did you learn there?"

He shook his head and tsked. 

"Ah, now that'd be tellin', wouldn't it?" he replied jauntily. "That's nothin' for the likes of you to know--why, you might go into business for yourself if I was to tell you what I knows now!" But there was a shadow in his eyes as he spoke, and I suspected his lessons had been hard-earned. It pained me to see it, for Dodger had only ever been kind to me. Indeed, I could remember no-one kinder save my grandfather and Rose, and they were of necessity removed from the count by dint of being family. The love and care I received from them was unstinting, yet I felt a stronger warmth in my breast for Dodger's efforts in the same kind. To think that he had sustained some hurt during the years of our separation was anathema to me. Still worse was the knowledge that I could do nothing to assuage him, save perhaps to return the favour of his kindness. To this end I sought to turn our conversation to a pleasanter subject.

"And now you have your own gang!" I said with a gesture after the departed James. "Do you remember how once you said you would, and that I would be your lieutenant? We were going to be wanted men with prices on our heads." I shook my head fondly in remembrance. "I was very happy that day."

Dodger's laugh was still the same, quick and silvery. He slapped his knee and cried, 

"You was a wide-eyed young'un then, Oliver! I would've made a top-notch swindler out o' you, given half a chance." His smile faded then, and he murmured, "But I did have 'alf a chance--a full one, even. And you chose Grosvenor Square instead."

I felt hollow; put so bluntly, it was thoughtless of me to have run off as I had, to find my mother's family. But Dodger clearly bore me no ill will--he squeezed my shoulder and brightened again. 

"And look at you now! You made the right choice, that's plain. I've never seen a grander gentleman. I'd be proud to pick your pockets clean, I would." He winked at me. "Now tell the truth, Oliver--has you got a young lady in your eye? I remember you took a right shine to Nancy. I'll wager you've got dozens o' the creatures dangling at your coat-tails!"

I shook my head and laughed. "I know many lovely young women, but none of them has taken much of a shine to me, or me to any, if I'm truthful. I'm afraid you'd lose that bet."

Dodger seemed put out on my behalf. "What's wrong with 'em then?" he demanded. "Why, you're a grand catch, or my name's not Jack Dawkins!"

"Don't blame the ladies, Dodger," I entreated, "it's not their faults. I'm not ready yet to think of taking a wife--I need to find a calling first!" I made a vague gesture. "I need some security to be sure I can provide for a partner in life."

Dodger's eye on me was thoughtful, but he did not press the topic. I shook away the dullness of my thoughts in this area and found another smile. 

"Are you a wanted man yet, Dodger?" I asked. "Have you become famous, and the envy of your colleagues?"

He sat up in his chair. "'Course I have!" he exclaimed, "Fagin himself'd be jealous, if he saw me now." He sighed heartily. "Ah, it's a right pity you're so respectable, Oliver. We'd have a grand time, you an' me, pickin' pockets all over London." He tilted his head and grinned at me. "Want to throw in with me now and try to catch up? Wouldn't take long, I'll wager. You always was a quick study."

Here was a chance to regain some of the joy of those brief months spent with Dodger so many years ago, if I would but take it. For a moment I was sorely tempted; the twin bonds of society and familial duty held me back. The time for such a fancy was long past--I must now be respectable and a credit to my family. But the wish stayed with me, as did the wistful look in Dodger's eyes.

When we had finished with our remembrances I stood to leave, and he took my hand.

"You always was a good sort, Oliver," he said solemnly. "I'm right glad to know you still is."

I took his hand in both of mine and held it tightly in return. 

"I feel the same about you, Dodger," I told him. "You were the first friend I ever had, and you always tried to do right by me. I've often thought of you and hoped you were well."

I felt as though I were wide open to his gaze as if it searched my innermost thoughts. A tremor ran quickly through me at the unfamiliar feeling, but I did not draw away. Dodger squeezed my hand. 

"Stay a bit longer, if you've a mind," he invited. "You're always welcome here, Oliver." His voice was very soft.

I felt almost faint. "Thank you," I said unsteadily, and sat down again. "I'd like that." I looked over at him and flushed; for he was looking at me still, and his eyes were shining.

It was many hours later when I finally took my leave of him, and that with reluctance. This time when I stood to leave Dodger embraced me. 

"Be well, Dodger," I said in a choked voice. He shook his hair out of his eyes and smiled.

"Always am, aren't I?" he replied lightly. "Now get on with you! They'll be sending out the Watch for you soon." He gave me a push towards the door. I paused for a moment as if to say something else, but found no words. At last I simply turned and left his house, feeling as I did that I left something valuable behind.

It was not until some minutes later as I returned to more well-to-do streets that I put a hand to my pocket once again, and this time I laughed aloud. My pocket watch was missing.

"I wish you joy of it, Dodger," I said aloud and uncaring who heard me. "Until we meet again, at least!" Then I hurried down the street towards Grosvenor Square.

**Author's Note:**

> The significance of the apple: in the movie, Oliver and Dodger first meet when Oliver attempts to steal an apple from a cart in the market, and Dodger catches him in the act.


End file.
